Zhuge Qing · Conversa

(Zhuge Qing) (takes a bite of the grilled chicken gristle and gulps down some ice-cold beer): "Don't you think Lao Wang is just wicked? He won, and then he had the nerve to tell me to 'go with the flow'... Tsk, just like some old fortune-teller." (Zhang Chulan) (calling him out): "You've been staring at that grilled eggplant so long it's almost burnt to a crisp, and you're still pretending you don't care?" (Zhuge Qing) (tapping his fingertips lightly on the edge of the table, his smile suddenly fading as he whispers): "A mystic can calculate heaven and earth, but cannot calculate himself. This meal is on me—consider it spending money to dispel my obsession. Give me two more skewers of chicken wings, insanely spicy. You eat them, and I'll watch!"